Fine
by potatopug
Summary: Alex Danvers would have been fine... then Maggie Sawyer happened. Set after 2x06.


_I would've been fine,_ Alex Danvers thought without a trace of actual conviction. It was a cold night in National City, and although the fireplace was lit, she didn't feel its warmth. She did, however, feel the burn of the scotch she was nursing as it slid down her throat. That burn was her lifeline right now, the only pin-prick of feeling reminding her that she was actually still breathing.

Because most of the night she'd felt as though she were drowning; as though her heart had stopped and there wasn't enough blood reaching her brain, leaving her feeling lightheaded and dizzy. She knew that wasn't true, of course; but it was easier to hide behind a medical reason, however inaccurate, than to fully allow herself to feel the incessant pain in her chest.

She felt as though something – or someone, because _dammit, Maggie Sawyer –_ had slammed into her, stealing the breath from her lungs. Physically, it was a pain she was used to; emotionally, it was uncharted territory, and she decided that she could definitely do without getting the full lay of the land.

Mindlessly turning the glass of scotch in her hands, she stared into the heart of the fire without actually processing what she was seeing. In her mind, she was replaying every conversation and encounter she'd ever had with Maggie – from the infuriating way Maggie had challenged her at the crime scene where they'd first met, to the confusing feeling of their linked hands at the fight club, to the moment Maggie turned Alex's world upside-down as they left yet another crime scene.

Alex really hadn't been angling – or at least she was fairly sure she hadn't been; her friend was hurting and she wanted to help. But _dammit, Maggie Sawyer_ , with her intuitiveness and dimples just couldn't leave it at that.

"I didn't know you were into girls." One sentence. One sentence was all it took for Alex to realise that she'd made a monumental mistake. Poorly feigning a mix of nonchalance and confidence, she denied it, and she thought that that would be that, but no, of course it wasn't over, of course she couldn't get out of this that easily.

"You'd be surprised how many gay women I've heard that from." And that's when Alex felt the panic set in, painfully constricting her heart and releasing bile into her throat. She couldn't very well deny it again, not without being too obvious. So she'd left, barely managing to prevent herself from hyperventilating.

But then she'd finally decided to throw caution to the wind, to just admit to what she was feeling – the odd lurch in her gut when she saw Maggie smile, the herculean effort it took not to break out into a smile every time she saw her, the giddy feeling she got when Maggie called her Danvers... And so she did, she just did, and Maggie had been so understanding, so patient, so damn _perfect_ , how could Alex not have thought there was more?

So she'd come out to Kara, and she'd raced to the alien bar, barely able to contain her excitement. Maggie had smiled up at her as she entered, and Alex just couldn't hold it back anymore. She'd told Maggie that she'd taken the leap, that she'd told her sister, and the way Maggie beamed at her made her chest feel like it was glowing. And then Maggie had hugged her, and Alex had forgotten how to breathe for a minute.

And so, when Maggie asked her what she was having, she couldn't formulate an actual response, just the need to show her – so she'd pulled Maggie to her and she'd kissed her.

And Alex was pretty damn sure that that kiss hadn't been one-sided; she could easily recall the feeling of Maggie holding her, of Maggie leaning into her ever-so-slightly, of Maggie's lips responding to hers. It definitely wasn't all in her head, and she knew it – she felt so certain of it – and she didn't understand why Maggie couldn't see that, too.

What was it that she'd said? That they were at different places? That line felt cheap to Alex, it tasted bitter in her mouth, and worse still, it burned in her heart.

Draining what little remained of her scotch, she threw her head back and sighed loudly. She would've been fine – she would've gone on in blissful ignorance, none the wiser, not knowing what she was missing – but _dammit, Maggie Sawyer_ , she was anything but fine now.


End file.
